


kindling

by pepperbell



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Spoilers, Gen, Mild Language, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperbell/pseuds/pepperbell
Summary: ethereal moon, year 1185. three old friends, en route to a promised reunion, make camp for the night.





	1. kindling

Sylvain muttered an incantation under his breath, a puff of vapor forming around his face, and after a moment, sparks burst into being and the homely pile of twigs before them was alight with flame. He turned to his friends and pointed at the fire with a hint of a smirk.

“What’d I tell you?” he asked, puffing out his chest a bit. “I remembered something from the academy after all.” Felix snorted, shoving Sylvain a bit as he moved closer, cupping his hands around the fire.

“Truly, you’ve proven you’re not a _ complete _ good-for-nothing,” he spat out. Sylvain decided to take it as a compliment regardless, noting that it lacked his usual bite. But then again, nobody’s entirely themself when they’re freezing their ass off in the middle of nowhere. Ingrid sighed, no energy left in her to scold him, and moved in closer herself.

The three of them sat there for a while, huddled close in a circle around the fire in silence, watching the flickers of light rise and quickly dissipate in the air. Sylvain tilted his head up toward the sky, where black masses of clouds were just barely visible as they made their way across. As a frigid gust cut through the trees, they all instinctively gathered even closer, practically butting foreheads, and Sylvain lifted his hands and recited the spell again to keep the flame alive.

They moved apart when the wind passed, and he turned to look at them. The bags beneath Felix’s eyes seemed to grow deeper by the day, and Ingrid’s brow appeared to be permanently furrowed. It was the first night since they set out that they couldn’t find some form of indoor shelter, but it hardly seemed to change anything. They sat together wordlessly as night took hold, just like the days before.

“Have I ever told the two of you that you look way prettier with smiles on your faces?” Sylvain ventured, casually breaking the long silence. Felix turned and glared with daggers in his eyes, and Ingrid’s head fell like a rock between her shoulders.

_“Sylvain,”_ she snapped. “Is this _ really _ the time?”

“Oh, come on,” he sighed. “Even having the two of you yell at me would be better than this.” He gestured vaguely, then wrapped his arms around their shoulders, pulling them in closer.

Felix scoffed, though he didn’t push away. “You should be counting your blessings that it’s this damn cold out,” he hissed. “Otherwise we might have actually had the energy to start kicking your ass.”

“Sure, sure,” Sylvain nodded, slapping his arm gently. “I’m just trying to keep us all thinking positive. We’re almost at the monastery, after all.”

“Right, right, the _ monastery_,” Felix mocked. “I sure can’t wait to be greeted by a bunch of ruined, abandoned buildings.”

“Hey, don’t give me that! You wouldn’t have agreed to come if you didn’t have even the slightest sliver of hope that someone else would be there.”

Ingrid let out a quiet snort, the fire illuminating the smile creeping onto her face. Sylvain hugged her tighter with the arm he had around her, letting out a laugh himself.

“Atta girl, Ingrid!” he beamed. “See, isn’t it better to have a smile on your face?” She rolled her eyes, but her grin only widened.

“As clueless as you usually are, I’ll concede that you have a point this time,” she admitted, then turned to Felix. “I know the situation isn’t looking too promising, but the least we can do is hope that at least _ one _ of our classmates had the same idea.” He glared at her too for taking Sylvain’s side, then turned his nose in the air and huffed indignantly.

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “Does any of it even _ mean _ anything if the boar himself doesn’t show up?” Ingrid frowned at the old moniker, but Sylvain interjected before they could start arguing.

“If you’re so sure the rumors are false, turn back and go home,” he suggested with a smirk, completely unsurprised when he received a shove to his side, knocking his arm away.

“As if. I’ll make sure with my own two eyes.” A reluctant sigh. “Besides, you two are hopeless, and it’d piss me off if you went and got yourselves killed for nothing.” Sylvain and Ingrid turned to one another and smiled again, both of them noting how his voice had taken on a much less caustic tone.

“Ever so generous with your protection as always, milord Fraldarius,” Ingrid thanked him, even bowing her head in mock deference.

“May you forever shield us from our own incompetence,” Sylvain tagged on, a toothy grin plastered to his face.

“Ugh. Absolutely insufferable.” Felix buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I’ve been stuck with you morons all these years.” Ingrid laughed, light and airy in the dark.

“You make it sound like you had no choice in the matter,” she pointed out, reaching out with her foot and kicking his shin lightly. “But you are right, in a sense. I can’t even remember the days before we all met.”

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other forever, then, huh?” Sylvain winked. “We should pinky swear on it, like we used to do when we were kids.”

“I’d rather cut my hand off.”

“Wow. Tough crowd tonight, huh, Sylvain.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” He smiled, but it gradually fell away as he gazed back into the fire, the cold still nipping at his face. Noticing the flames were dying down again in the breeze, he fed another spell into it and watched it grow, licking into the air, then let his hands fall into his lap.

“You’re looking awfully mopey for someone who was just prattling on about staying positive,” Felix noted. Ingrid sighed a bit at his choice in words, but they were all well aware that he was only capable of expressing concern behind a veneer of insults.

“Something on your mind?” she asked Sylvain, preferring directness. “You know you can rely on us, too.” His lip curled up.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, folding his hands together. “I was just thinking that His Highness never picked up magic back at the academy.”

“Magic?” Felix repeated, but quickly stopped himself as his eyes fell on the fire. “Oh.”

“He didn’t,” Ingrid said softly, closing her eyes. “I really hope he’s alright.”

“Same here.” Sylvain snaked his arms out and hugged the two of them around their shoulders again, and was met with no resistance. They fell into a silent trance once more, listening to the twigs crackle and appreciating the warmth of the flames. This time, Felix was the one to break the silence.

“He’s alive,” was all he said. His brow was furrowed as though he were just as annoyed as always, but his voice was soft, genuine. He paused, as if searching for the right words. “He’s more resilient than the lot of us put together, after all.” Ingrid looked over to him and smiled, her eyes glittering.

“You’re probably right.”

“I _ know _ I am,” he snipped, putting up his walls again. “In any case, we should get some sleep. If we start out early enough, we might even make it to the monastery tomorrow night.” Ingrid turned to Sylvain, lifting his arm off of her shoulder.

“He’s got a point,” she said, standing up and stretching her legs before crouching down on the ground to readjust the few blankets they had put down earlier. “If we head out at daybreak and the weather isn’t too bad, our odds seem pretty good.” Felix knelt down too, helping her straighten out the blankets. As they began to tuck themselves in for the night, he looked up toward Sylvain, who remained seated before the fire.

“You’re not going to sleep?” he asked. Sylvain shook his head, gesturing toward the fire.

“You guys go ahead first,” he said. “I just want to kindle the flame a little longer.”

“Have it your way,” Felix replied after a pause, flopping on his back beneath one of the blankets. Ingrid chuckled a little, and did the same.

“Good night, Sylvain,” she said, shuffling a bit to get comfortable.

“Night, Ingrid. Rest up.” His friends having gone silent, he watched the flame again, kicking a few of the loose twigs back into the center of the pile before casting one last spell to keep it alight. The magic flowed through his fingertips, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake, though it faded in a few seconds’ time. For a moment, the world was still, the air calm and the wilderness silent, the only motion coming from the dancing fire. Sylvain’s mind went blank, unable to call forth a meaningful thought in the vastness and emptiness of it all, but was pulled back to the earth when he heard a soft huff of breath from Ingrid, and saw Felix turn on his side beneath his blanket.

Blinking and feeling the radiating heat from the flames, he smiled to himself, quietly admiring their pocket of light, small, but beating on steadily, in the dead of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the first time i managed to actually write a fic from start to finish... i love the childhood friends...  
i'm on twitter @pepperbell_ for art stuff if you're interested, thanks for reading!


	2. flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guardian moon, year 1185. a lost prince is found once more, and yet he still seems so far away.

The grand hall of the cathedral was absolutely freezing; a biting gust of wind entered along with the three friends as they opened the doors just enough to let them in. They found the inside completely abandoned, save for the lone cloaked figure standing at the far end, before a mountain of rubble where the pristine stone walls once stood intact. Even as the doors slammed shut with a heavy thud and the three of them made their way past the aisles of half-destroyed pews, the broken tiles crunching beneath their feet, he kept his back to them.

Only upon reaching him did they hesitate, standing pin drop silent for a moment as they stared at the banner of Faerghus adorning his back. There was no way he couldn’t have known they were there; how could they possibly break the ice?

Sylvain, noticing Felix and Ingrid’s hesitance, took it upon himself.

“Evening, Your Highness,” he greeted, as flippant as ever. He walked forward, slapping a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder as he turned to face him properly. “Good work out there clearing out those bandits. It’s nice to be back here after so long.” He wore a casual smile on his face as usual, but it cracked the moment he made eye contact.

The prince scowled, baring his teeth as he made a hissing sound and roughly threw Sylvain’s hand off of his shoulder with just a flick of his wrist. Felix and Ingrid, startled by the sudden movement, hurried to Sylvain’s side.

“Woah, woah, I’m sorry,” Sylvain apologized, taking a step back. “I should have asked first.”

Dimitri straightened his back, practically casting his shadow over the three of them, and clenched his lance tighter in his fist.

“What are you doing here?” he spat, his ice blue eye sweeping to pierce each of them in turn. “Lay your hands on me again and I’ll have your heads like the rest.” Felix snarled, gripping his sword firmly.

“You’ve truly gone and lost your damn mind, haven’t you? Threatening your own allies like a rabid animal.” Before either of them could make a move with their weapons, Ingrid put herself between them, holding her arms out.

“Enough!” she snapped, glaring at Felix. Turning to Dimitri, she winced at the enraged expression he still wore, but took on a softer tone. “Forgive us, Your Highness. We mean you no harm.” He scoffed.

“_What are you doing here?_” he repeated, dropping his voice lower, practically into a growl.

“We came to check on you,” Sylvain answered, feigning calmness as best he could. He put his hands on Ingrid’s shoulders and cautiously guided her backwards a few steps, giving Dimitri his space. “This is the first time we’ve seen you in years, after all. We were worried.”

“The fool you wasted time worrying about is dead,” Dimitri hissed in response, without hesitation. “Leave this place now.”

“Your Highness, please--”

“_Now!_”

It happened in a flash, his lance swinging up above his head and then crashing straight down to the ground with a crack of the stone tiles less than a foot away from Sylvain, who let out a gasp of shock and instinctively grabbed Ingrid, jumping backward as quickly as he could with her. They stumbled a bit trying to regain their footing, but before either had the chance to respond, Felix was tossing the sheath of his sword aside, baring his teeth in a twisted scowl.

“You _boar!_” he shouted at Dimitri, who slowly turned his head to face him while raising his lance from the ground. In a flash of silver, Felix’s blade cut through the air with as much force as he could gather, though it did nothing to knock the weapon from the prince’s hands. Placing himself firmly in front of Sylvain and Ingrid, Felix spat in Dimitri’s direction, assuming a fighting stance, and the prince stared back, his lips twitching downward as he heaved out a cloud of breath. “The nerve… the damn _nerve!_”

“Felix, don’t!” Sylvain hollered, lunging forward and reaching out to grab him by the cape, but his fingertips just barely missed as Felix rushed at Dimitri, who firmly clenched his lance, but made no active move to attack, merely receiving all of Felix’s swings. The two seethed as their weapons clattered with little finesse.

“Don’t you know--” Felix hissed, cut off as Dimitri dodged a blow, “Don’t you know how long we _ searched _ for you? How long we were _ terrified _ for your safety?” Dimitri snarled, a frenzied look in his eye, his movements ragged and quick, but still he merely held his lance to absorb Felix’s blows. “Not just the three of us. _ Your whole damn class! _ And this-- _ this _ is the response we get?!”

“_Silence!_” Dimitri bellowed, suddenly throwing his lance to the side. Taken aback by him disarming himself, Felix hesitated for a split second, giving the prince the opening he needed. In one fluid motion he grabbed him by the collar, fully lifted him off of his feet, and sent him flying through the air as if he weighed nothing. Felix let out a surprised yelp, but it was quickly cut off when he collided with the ground several feet away.

“Felix!” Ingrid cried out, immediately breaking into a sprint to rush to his side; Dimitri stood stock still, making no move to stop her. The right side of Felix’s face had slid along the floor before he came to a stop; when he lifted his head from the ground, ears ringing, he saw thin lines of blood staining the tiles. Sylvain, who had stood frozen in shock, snapped to his senses at the sight and ran to put himself between them and Dimitri, whose shallow, pointed breaths came out as puffs of vapor in the frigid cathedral.

“_Boar_,” Felix seethed, his voice hoarse as he ran a hand over the scrapes on his cheek and his face contorting in anger. Sylvain steeled himself, but there was no response from the prince.

“You’ve said enough,” Ingrid snapped at Felix, lifting him to his feet and supporting him with an arm around his back. “We’re leaving. Now.” Without turning back to face Dimitri, she pressed her eyes closed grimly and added softly, “Please excuse us, Your Highness.” Felix scowled, but slung his arm around her shoulder without any resistance.

“How can you possibly still address him like that?” he hissed, limping along with her toward the entrance.

“_You’ve said enough,_” she repeated. “Sylvain, let’s go.”

“R-right.” He scooped up Felix’s sword and sheath off the ground and moved to rejoin them, but found himself turning back to face the prince, who stared back at him, his hair even more disheveled from the fight and his face bearing a hollow, unreadable expression.

“You heard her,” he muttered, low and guttural. “Leave.”

“I will,” Sylvain assured him, but reached for a pouch he had tied to his belt. “We didn’t mean to upset you. Really, all we wanted to do was make sure you had something to eat.” He placed it on the ground, then took a step back. “It’s not much, but it’s some dried fruit we had. Just, you know, something to hold you over until we have the food situation sorted.” Dimitri’s brow was twitching in irritation before he even finished explaining.

“Save your breath and _ leave_.” Sylvain’s heart fell in his chest.

“Understood,” he uttered. “Rest well tonight, Your Highness.” He turned on his heel and began to run toward Ingrid and Felix, who had just about reached the door to the cathedral. Dimitri said nothing, turning back toward the mountain of rubble as the three of them took their leave.

Sylvain drew the doors open for them, wide enough for Ingrid and Felix to exit side by side, and the two of them waited for him as he drew them closed moments later. They were dead silent as the heavy wooden doors swung shut, and the last thing they saw in the sliver between them was the tattered (yet ever brilliant) azure banner of their fallen homeland.

\---

It didn’t really come as a surprise that an argument broke out.

“I can’t believe how _ reckless _ you were,” Ingrid snapped. “You know he’s strong enough to have killed you on the spot.” Felix scowled, pushing her off of his shoulder to walk without support.

“Save it,” he hissed back. “I’m hardly in the damn mood to debate you.”

“And _ I’m _ hardly in the mood to see His Highness turn on all of us when we’ve worked so hard to find him!”

“Guys,” Sylvain tried to intervene, “Come on, we’re all safe and sound for now, let’s all just try to get along.” They had just about reached the end of the bridge connecting the monastery and the cathedral, their relatively warm rooms just a few minutes’ walk away. “I think what we all need is just a good night’s sleep. Hell, we’ve got proper beds for once.”

“As if that’ll do anything about the damn boar.”

“Felix!”

“_Let’s all just try to get along,_” Sylvain repeated, pushing himself between the two of them and linking elbows with them. Hardly to his surprise, Felix immediately shoved him away.

“Screw you, Sylvain,” he snapped, crossing his arms across his chest.

“_Sylvain,_” Ingrid pressed, but in a less hostile tone. He sighed, and let her arm go. “This is serious, alright? This isn’t just me being irritated with Felix. It’s genuinely _ dangerous _ for him to be so reckless when His Highness is like this. And not just for him, for all of us.” Sylvain turned to Felix, who kept his face pointing straight ahead as they neared the main body of the monastery.

“You know she’s not wrong, right?” he ventured. “I mean, just look at what he did to you. With practically zero effort. If the guy can snap a sword in half when he’s his normal self, it really doesn’t take much to imagine what he _ could _ do when he’s not.” Felix scowled, grinding his heels into the ground as he came to a stop, with Sylvain and Ingrid doing the same in turn.

“You just don’t get it at all,” he said, voice laced with scorn. “You never understood. This?” He pointed to the scrapes running down his cheek. “This isn’t a recent development. This _ is _ who he is.”

“Come on, that seems a bit harsh--”

“No, it’s not,” Felix cut him off. “Just because he was better at hiding it in the past doesn’t mean he was any less of a boar. Ugh.” He put a hand over his face in irritation. “I’ve had enough of this.” Pushing past them, he stormed off toward the monastery alone.

“Felix!” Ingrid called out, starting after him, but Sylvain put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Wait,” he said softly. “You know the man, let’s give him some time to simmer down a bit.” She gave a ragged sigh, but nodded curtly.

“What a night it’s been,” she muttered, as the two of them turned at the foot of the bridge in the direction of the dormitory.

“Tell me about it,” Sylvain replied, running a hand through his hair. “But hey, like I said before, at least we’ve got beds to sleep on. We should take whatever victory we can.”

“I guess you’re right.” She turned her head to the side, looking down the stone corridor where the three houses’ classrooms stood side by side as they passed it by. “You know, I thought that once we made it back here and reunited with everyone like we promised, that… that things would look better. But between the monastery being run into the ground and His Highness having changed so much…” She trailed off.

“It’s almost as if things are even more hopeless than before,” Sylvain finished with a bitter laugh, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked toward the ground.

“Yeah.” A long pause. “I guess all we can really do is put our best foot forward.”

“Seems like it.”

They fell into a long silence as they walked down the length of the dormitory’s ground floor, in the direction of the staircase by the greenhouse. Ingrid turned to look at the doors as they all passed by; of course, their professor’s room was the one at the very end, and Ashe, Dedue, Annette, and Mercedes had rooms on the first floor as well, but the rest of their old classmates’ faces were a blur.

_ The shy little one from the Empire, the one with glasses from the Alliance… Which were their rooms again? _

“Something on your mind?” Sylvain asked, as they turned and entered the stairwell. She shook her head.

“Nothing specific,” she answered, looking at her feet. “Just… nostalgia, I suppose.”

“I get it.” They stopped at Ingrid’s door, at the top of the stairs. “Well, sleep tight, Ingrid. I guess we’ll have to try smoothing things over with Felix in the morning. Can’t delay it for too long, considering he huffed off without taking his sword back from me.” He lifted the sheathed sword a bit, giving a small smirk. Ingrid nodded.

“I should probably apologize for lashing out at him. I… lost my temper a bit, back there.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. You weren’t really all that wrong about it, anyway,” Sylvain assured her. “Plus, this has pretty much just been the drill for us ever since we were kids, right? Butting heads all the time, but making up at the end of the day?” She chuckled.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” she conceded. “But you know how Felix is. He might still be testy in the morning.”

“No worries at all,” Sylvain replied casually with a wink and a wave of his hand. “I’ll take you both to tea and surely everything’ll be all hunky-dory again. Do we have a date?” She laughed again, louder this time, and Sylvain’s smile grew wider involuntarily, seeing her solemn expression fall away.

“Unbelievable as ever, Sylvain,” she scolded, crossing her arms across her chest. “But sure. If you can manage to open your mouth without him ripping your tongue out, then you’ve _ probably _ got a date.”

“As always, this humble soldier is willing to step up to the challenge,” he replied with exaggerated stiffness, straightening his back and giving her a salute. Then, loosening up his posture, he gave her a small smile as he started down the hallway toward his own room. “Seriously, don’t worry too much about it. Knowing us, it’ll all be fine.” He gave her a curt wave. “Night, Ingrid.” She smiled back.

“Good night, Sylvain.”

\---

The next morning, Sylvain and Ingrid arrived at the dining hall early, watching as their classmates gradually trickled in as well to spend the morning together. Felix was the last to arrive, lingering a bit by the entrance with a troubled scowl on his face, but he eventually sat beside them when Sylvain called out and waved him over.

“Morning, Felix,” Ingrid greeted, something of an awkward smile on her face. He averted his gaze.

“Morning,” he replied, a bit reluctant.

“Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe said they’d see what they can do with some of the food supplies we’ve scrounged up, bless their souls,” Sylvain informed him with a grin, leaning his elbows on the table. “So it looks like we’ll be graced with our first proper meal in a while, huh?”

A pause. “Cool,” was all he said in response.

“Your scrapes healing up okay?” Sylvain asked, peering at his cheek, still marked with cuts and slight bruising. “Oof. Maybe you should have Mercedes look at them later.”

“Maybe.” He ran a hand across his forehead, pushing his bangs aside, and said nothing more.

“Look, let’s not beat around the bush,” Ingrid sighed. “Felix. I’d like to apologize for lashing out at you last night. You were just trying to protect us, after all.” His frown deepened, and there was another pause, longer this time.

“I… should apologize too,” he admitted softly, folding his hands on the tabletop. “I was reckless. I… shouldn’t have picked a fight with him.” Hesitantly, he turned to finally meet their gazes. “In the moment I was just… _ livid_. But thinking about it, I don’t think he was even trying to actually hit you. Just to scare us enough to make us leave. I don’t know. It’s. Like that.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture, brow twitching. “I’m not mad.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ingrid smiled. “The lot of us might always be at odds with each other, but you’re always looking out for us in your own way, aren’t you?” He frowned, letting his head fall between his shoulders.

“Whatever,” he scoffed dismissively.

“So, we’re all friends again?” Sylvain joked, slapping a hand on Felix’s back.

“Don’t push your luck, Gautier,” he spat, caustic as usual, though he offered no opposition to the gesture. Then, raising his head, he added, “But in all seriousness, we need to keep an eye on the boar. We’re lucky enough to have the professor back, but if _ he _ still gets to call any of the shots, we’re in for trouble.” Ingrid shifted in her seat, a troubled expression returning.

“I know where you’re coming from, and I kind of hate to admit it, but…” she trailed off, searching for the right words. “I can’t help but share some of His Highness’ hatred, too. I think, underneath it all, he’s coming from a place of deep hurt. After everything that’s happened to the Kingdom these past few years…”

“When it comes down to it, striking down the Empire as quickly as we can honestly sounds like a game plan,” Sylvain finished, crossing his arms across his chest. “So in that sense, he does kind of have a point.” Felix pressed his lips together.

“I know,” he noted. “Trust me, I know. But listen to me. Whether it’s out of loyalty, or hatred, or stupidity, or _ whatever_, don’t let it blind you. I don’t want either of you throwing away your lives for nothing.” A pause. “And I don’t want him throwing away his, either. Not after we’ve made it this far.”

Sylvain had half a mind to crack a joke, a casual _ Aww, there you go caring about us again, _ just _ something _ to lighten the quickly shifting mood, but it was exceedingly rare to hear Felix talk about the prince without a flurry of insults, so he stayed his tongue.

“His hatred finally went and drove him off the edge. It’s disgusting to see. It’s…” Felix seethed, gritting his teeth and giving a sharp huff through his nose as he dragged his fingers down his face, down the marks the fight had left. There it was, his own hatred resurfacing, twisting his expression at the edges. But toward who, toward what?

Silently, Ingrid reached out and pulled his hand from his face, placing it upon the table and covering it with hers. Sylvain leaned in, cupping their hands with both of his own.

“I’ve never known what to feel about him, but especially now…” Felix muttered, his voice ragged and low. “As he is now… he’s been reduced to a beast.” And though they had heard him use that word for the prince more times than they could count, there was something different, something deeply pained, something bitterly yearning about the way that he said it this time.

They sat in silence for some time, stewing in thoughts of war, of death, of childhood, of simpler days. None of them could find the words to breach it, though with a sudden burst from the kitchen, they found they didn’t need to.

“Morning, you guys!” Annette called out, clothes marked with powder and a tray in hand. Ashe emerged behind her, brushing his hands together to wipe the flour away.

“We found enough ingredients lying around to make some biscuits for everyone,” he beamed. “Mercedes is getting tea ready, so she’ll be out in a minute. The professor went to see if His Highness would join us, so I’m just going to check in and see if I can fetch them myself.”

“Sounds great, Ashe,” Sylvain replied, clenching down tighter on Ingrid and Felix’s hands just for a moment before letting them go. “C’mon guys, let’s lend a hand. Gotta keep our heads up.” The three of them rose to help set up, chatting idly with Annette about cooking, about the weather, about anything that could stave off the encroaching dread.

When Ashe returned, he brought only the professor with him. But regardless, everyone still gathered at the table, exchanging lighthearted talk, trying to stay positive after five years of worry. Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain sat side by side, the sun’s rays streaming in through the window and warming their faces.

Though darkness still clung to their hearts, they forced the light to return to their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally the first chapter was meant as a oneshot, but i started thinking about expanding on it to look at the childhood friend squad over all of azure moon. i do have a rough outline for a complete set of chapters, but it'll probably be quite some time before the journey is fully complete. nevertheless, i'll give it my all!
> 
> as always, thanks for reading!


	3. inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pegasus moon, year 1185. nightmares of those lost to the flames haunt the waking world.
> 
> (warning for violence from this chapter onward)

_ “It burns… Make it stop… Make it stop!” _

Ingrid jolted upright with a shout, drenched in a cold sweat in her bed as her heart raced. Running a hand over her throat and then up through her hair to sweep her bangs away, she took breaths so deep that her lungs ached in protest, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of her room.

The images in her dreams had already blurred and faded from recollection, but the stench of billowing smoke clung to her nose even in the waking world, strongly enough to make her nauseous. Tossing her covers to the side, she rose from bed, wiping the sweat from her face on a cloth draped over the chair at her desk.

Opening her door, she peered down the corridor, thankful that it seemed she hadn’t woken Sylvain or Felix. Though it had proven useful during their academy days that her childhood friends had to pass by her room to get to theirs or leave (by the goddess, all those scoldings really were a lifetime ago), in the past few weeks after the attack on the monastery, she found herself grateful that she herself could slip away undetected.

Quietly, she stepped into her boots, pulled her furred cape over her shoulders, and shut the door behind her before descending down the stairs. A cold draft seeped in through cracks in the wall; after the storming of the monastery, though practically all of the buildings were still left standing, they bore scars from the attack that left them susceptible to the elements. Emerging onto the ground floor, she looked up at the greenhouse before her, its walls crumbling and its stained glass windows cracked and filthy from the monastery’s long abandonment. Though members of the church were slowly making their way back to Garreg Mach, everyone’s first priority was to direct their efforts toward the war, so the grounds were still largely unkempt.

Wandering without any real aim, she passed the little dock at the fishing pond and turned toward the stairs leading to the dining hall, stopping to rest her elbows on the edge of the wall there.

_ “Everyone, fall back! There are too many troops for us to defend the monastery!” _

She crumpled over, clutching her head in her hands as the memory resurfaced.

A horrifying sound boomed like clattering thunder, thick black smoke and scattering debris searing her lungs as she was sent flying. The throng of soldiers advanced, advanced, and she knew they would close in on her within minutes. So she staggered to her feet despite the pain, despite the hacking and retching, and took off as fast as her legs would carry her.

_ I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. _

Slowly she raised her head, the breeze pushing at her bangs as she faced the night sky. There she stood; alive and-- well, perhaps not entirely well, but _ alive. _ So why? Why were the flames still following her, still slicing through the ground beneath her feet?

The day they defended the retaken monastery-- in the distance, Gilbert and the professor gave the order. Looking down from atop her pegasus, she watched the flames rain down like something out of scripture, divine punishment. And though she herself was far removed, a safe distance away from the unfolding hellfire, she saw the Imperial soldiers scramble in a futile attempt to escape, heard their terrified screams as the ground was bathed in flames.

Her fingers dug into her cheeks, recalling the sight of the monastery grounds once the battle was won, littered with the fallen. Watching from above, she thought back to a lifetime ago, when Dimitri had made hushed mentions of Duscur, of the land torn apart beyond recognition, of the dead maimed and burned. Of Glenn, of the empty suit of armor they brought back from the bloodbath. She clenched her reins tightly, knuckles turning white. Was it really so different, watching it happen to Imperial soldiers this time around?

_ How horrific. _

A painful death. A knight’s death? A reunion with a familiar face, within the inferno? The exact opposite of a fairytale ending--

“Don’t tell me you snuck out for a midnight snack.”

“Aah!” Ingrid cried out, jolting backwards and holding her arms out in front of her. It took a second for her to register that it was Sylvain, but by the time she did, he had one hand on her back and the other holding her wrist to break her fall, a concerned look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, dropping the joking tone and letting go when she was steady on her feet. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

“It’s alright,” Ingrid laughed weakly, combing through her hair with her fingers and covering an eye with her palm. “I was just… lost in thought.”

“Figures,” he noted. “It’s not like you to be up and about at this hour.”

“I guess you of all people would know that, wouldn’t you,” she chuckled dryly, letting her hand fall back to the ledge of the wall as she turned to face the fishing pond again.

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but ouch,” he replied, punching her arm lightly and taking a place at her side. “But seriously. Is something up?”

“I’m not really sure,” she answered, lacing her fingers together. “I’ve just been… having nightmares lately.” She paused, and Sylvain said nothing, giving her time to continue. “The fire trap we had to use to defend the monastery-- I know it wasn’t being used against _ us _, but it still… it still reminded me of the invasion five years ago. And of what I always imagined it was like at Duscur, and--” She shook her head, sighing. “Sorry. I haven’t really been able to put all of my thoughts together.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” Sylvain assured her. “Things like that-- war, and death-- they’re not easy to talk about.” He tilted his head, looking out toward the pond. “Watching all that was-- well, awful.”

“I know,” Ingrid agreed, closing her eyes. “Even though they’re supposed to be the enemy, it… It reminded me of things I’d never want to relive myself.” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “It reminded me that these kinds of things happen over and over. That tomorrow, it could be us, thrown into the flames.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words. As much as he wanted to deny it, to assure her that they were safe, the truth of the matter was that she was right. That in the heat of battle, anything was fair game. That any one of them could be whisked away to the kingdom in the sky at a moment’s notice.

“It’s just so odd,” Ingrid continued, filling the silence. “We’re soldiers. We’re at war. I don’t know. When the fate of our entire homeland is at stake, it doesn’t feel right to be so bogged down by nightmares of the past, or pity for the enemy.” She frowned. “But it also doesn’t feel right to harden your heart, to kill without thinking. To… to just let them burn.”

“It’s true,” Sylvain nodded solemnly, leaning forward a bit. He paused, but continued. “Sometimes all this fighting makes me think back to my brother. Even if it’s pointless to think about how things could’ve gone differently when it’s so far in the past, I just--” He turned to Ingrid, who met his gaze with pain in her eyes, twinkling in the dark. “--I just wonder if all this is the same. If all of this bloodshed and pain _ could _ have been avoided.”

“I know,” she said softly, nodding. “And sometimes it feels like all we can do is assure ourselves we’re doing the right thing. That it’ll all be worth it, in the end.” She looked out toward the pond again, at the moon’s quivering reflection on the water’s surface. “I guess for now, we’ll just have to place our faith in Lord Rodrigue’s reinforcements. I hope this month’s mission goes smoothly,” she added, after a long pause.

“Same,” Sylvain agreed. “But who the hell knows, when it comes to war. It’d just suck to have anything happen in Ailell, of all places.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Although if you died there, you’d go out with a pretty good idea of what’s to come when you get to the eternal flames, right?” He chuckled awkwardly, trying to shift the mood.

“_Sylvain_,” Ingrid admonished, punching his arm. There was no fooling her; she had seen the way he tensed up when they heard that their next destination was the Valley of Torment, the nervousness when he spoke to the professor about it.

“Sorry, sorry.”

They fell into a quiet trance, standing there together in the dark. The smoke and flames had mostly cleared from Ingrid’s mind, so she raised her head to the sky, wordlessly admiring the moon and stars twinkling above them. Sylvain followed her example, looking up pensively.

_ I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. _

“Hey.”

Sylvain tilted his head to the side. “What’s up?”

“We’re all in this fight together. So I really think we can pull this off. After we’ve ended the war… let’s all have a feast back in Fhirdiad.”

He smiled, genuinely this time, and nudged her shoulder with his elbow.

“There’s the Ingrid we all know and love. Sounds like a plan.”

Ingrid smiled too, pushing back against him, eyes still lost in the stars. Of course, thoughts of the flames, of loss, of death, were never far-- truth be told, they’d probably plague her through the end of the war, and long after-- but her heart was calm in the presence of another, in the comfort of a friend as the stars kept watch from above.


	4. smolder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lone moon, year 1185. perhaps, slowly, outlooks are beginning to shift.

“Your Highness, look alive!”

Dimitri snapped to his senses just in time, leaping backward as Sylvain cut in front of him on horseback, countering a blow from an Imperial soldier and striking him down swiftly. Reins tightly in hand, he turned back, looking toward the rest of their forces pushing back against a small wave of reinforcements under the professor’s command.

“Looks like they’ve got everything under control. Your Highness, let’s push on ahead; if we can take out the generals, the bridge is ours.” He gripped his reins, about to start forward, but Dimitri continued to stare back at their army, unresponsive. “Your Highness,” Sylvain repeated. Again, no response. “Your Highness!”

Dimitri jolted upright, and Sylvain steeled himself for a rebuke, but when their eyes met he found nothing but a dazed, mystified look in his eye.

“Let’s push on ahead,” he repeated, and the prince nodded, wordlessly following behind him.

\---

Felix let out a shout as a stream of lightning left his fingertips, striking down a cavalier charging at Sylvain. He ran up to him, visibly exhausted as he handed over a vulnerary.

“You alright?” he asked, watching Sylvain chug it down.

“Yeah,” he replied, wiping his mouth with his palm as the potion took effect, a gentle warmth soothing his muscles. “Good to see everyone’s starting to catch up.”

“They’ll wear us down if they send in any more reinforcements, though,” Felix pointed out, readying his sword to head back toward the fray. “My old man and the professor are leading the others forward. We should probably regroup with the boar and--” He cut himself off, then swiped his head from side to side. “Wait. Where the hell _ is _ he?”

“What are you talking about?” Sylvain asked. “He’s right behind--” Just as he was about to look over his shoulder from atop his horse, he spotted the prince well _ ahead _ of them instead, fighting off two lancers single-handedly. “Oh. Well, scratch that.”

“Damn it, that idiot!” Felix seethed, leaping into a sprint. “What the hell is _ with _ him today?”

Normally Sylvain would have pointed out that there was little cause for concern, given that the prince probably had the raw strength to rip them both in two bare handed, but upon closer inspection he noticed a bloodied, staggering mage approaching the prince from behind, making out the faint light of a spell about to be cast in the distance.

_ Shit. _

_ “Your Highness!” _ he hollered out at the top of his lungs, leading his horse into a furious gallop and quickly surpassing Felix. But the prince fought on, his lancework strangely uncoordinated, seemingly not hearing him.

_ Shit, shit. _

Desperately chanting under his breath as he glided forward, his palm was set alight with fire just as he passed the enemy mage, swerving to shield the prince. He raised his hand to launch the spell, but the mage was faster, a surge of wind magic headed their way.

_ “Get back, Dimitri!” _ he shouted quickly, taking the blow head on. Though the force of the impact felt as though a boulder had collided with his chest and sent him flying, he rolled onto the ground as skillfully as he could manage and quickly forced himself back to his feet, gritting his teeth as his ears rang, and sent his fireball flying, striking down the mage. Crumpling to his knees as he heaved out pained, labored breaths, he turned his head to the side and found the prince staring back at him, unharmed _ (oh, thank the goddess), _ two lancers lying dead at his feet, and that clouded, dazed look in his ice blue eye again as heavy black smoke and the stench of death swirled around them.

\---

Sylvain was guided away from the front line for the rest of the battle so the heavy bruising on his chest could be looked at, watching from safety as the Kingdom flag was hoisted above the great bridge. As his classmates and allies joined him, he breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the prince among them, Dedue and the professor at his side.

Of course, something was wrong; everyone had known that ever since reuniting at the monastery. But now, things seemed to be a different kind of wrong, if that made sense. He rose to his feet, putting a hand over his bandaged chest when it throbbed in pain in protest, and made his way toward them.

“Sylvain!” Ingrid called out, rushing over to him. Felix, also taking notice, left his father’s side and made his way over as well. “Don’t push yourself too much, you really should take a seat.” He laughed, patting his chest a few times.

“C’mon, I don’t think a little bit of standing’ll kill me,” he objected with a wink, though beneath it, his torso felt as though it had been lit aflame. “Good work taking the bridge, you guys.” Felix sighed, exasperated.

“We owe it to you that the boar made it out in one piece,” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in Dimitri’s direction.

“Aw, come on, it’s not like the hit would’ve killed him. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, what can I say.”

“Even still, it was a big help, and I’m glad you’re alright,” Ingrid said. “Who knows what could’ve happened otherwise? Honestly, he’s been acting… kind of strange today.”

“I know,” Sylvain replied, putting his hands on his hips. “I figured maybe we could ask the professor to try talking to him once we get back-- oh?” He cut himself off upon noticing the prince heading their way. “Heads up, you two.”

As they all turned to face Dimitri, Felix bore his usual scowl, though Sylvain and Ingrid were a little less sure of what to do with themselves. Though they had all reunited just about three months ago, he had sequestered himself to the cathedral and flatly refused to speak at length in all that time, even to his oldest friends and Rodrigue.

“Good work, Your Highness,” Sylvain offered weakly, meeting the prince’s blank stare. “Looks like, uh… looks like we’ve finally got our foothold into Imperial territory, huh?” Dimitri frowned, his hands balled into fists by his side as he seemed to stare at the bandages wrapped around Sylvain’s chest.

“So it seems,” he replied disinterestedly.

“Well?” Felix snapped, impatient. “Was there something you wanted to say?” Ingrid slapped his arm immediately, but Dimitri’s expression went unchanged.

“Your wounds,” he said simply.

“Oh. It’s nothing to worry about, Your Highness,” Sylvain assured him with a wave of his hand, levity returning to his voice. “The healers just said I should get some rest and have them checked again once we make it back to the monastery.”

Dimitri turned his head away, bangs obscuring his face, and gave something of a half nod. The four of them stood facing each other in silence, unsure of how to proceed.

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” Ingrid ventured, after a few moments of awkwardness, “but are you feeling alright, Your Highness?” He bristled at the question, turning his head farther away from them.

“You’ve been a bit off your game today,” Sylvain added. “Is it… is it about Dedue? Or, I don’t know, the Imperial army? Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

Dimitri bared his teeth in a snarl, and for a moment it seemed he was about to storm off in a huff. But he remained, clenching his fists even tighter.

“Those idiots… barreling straight toward their own deaths,” he growled, voice low. “Pointless sacrifice. All for that woman’s sake…”

_ Sacrifice. _ Sylvain pursed his lips.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he admitted softly. “That’s what loyalty looks like sometimes.” Dimitri fell silent again, turning his back to his old friends to look toward the others, who had gathered around each other to cheer for their victory. Though he couldn’t see exactly who the prince was looking at, Sylvain had a pretty good guess.

“Ready yourselves to depart soon,” Dimitri ordered, walking away. Felix scoffed and Ingrid sighed, but Sylvain felt something of a smile creeping onto his face. Back in the crowd of classmates, Dedue caught sight of the three of them, and when Sylvain flashed him a grin and a casual salute, he sent a gentle smile and a wave in return.

\---

He managed to keep up the façade long enough after the healers back at the monastery took another look at his wounds, but the moment Felix and Ingrid left him in his room to rest, Sylvain buried himself under his covers, completely drained. Though he felt much better overall, the magic they used to clear away most of the bruising left a dull sense of pressure in his chest, as though it were weighed down by rocks, and the rest of his body was still sore from battle. Succumbing to sleep nearly the second his eyes fell closed, his dreams were murky and blurred like smudged ink, but a few details stood out. Four children playing in a field, blanketed in snow. Carrying someone on his back.

He awoke to the sound of his door creaking open, and footsteps coming in. He tilted his head, wincing a bit from the crook in his neck he’d given himself while sleeping, and found Felix nudging the door closed with his foot, a tray of food in hand.

“Rise and shine, dumbass,” he announced. 

_ Pleasant as always. _ Sylvain rubbed a hand over his eyes, smirking.

“Good morning to you too,” he greeted back, still a bit groggy.

“You slept _ through _ the morning,” Felix corrected him. “Sit up. We saved a plate from lunch for you.” Sylvain fanned his fingers out over his chin and gasped in mock surprise.

“Don’t tell me,” he said, mouth exaggeratedly wide. “I’m about to be spoon-fed by Felix Hugo Fraldarius himself?”

_ “Sit up!” _ Felix snapped, baring his teeth in a snarl. “What are you, an infant? You’re feeding yourself.”

“Ha!” Sylvain laughed, pushing himself up in bed. “Alright, alright, no need to look at me like that. Yeesh, if looks could kill.”

“You wouldn’t have survived childhood, jackass.” Felix’s huff was curt and rough, but he deposited the tray in Sylvain’s hands gently.

“Looks good,” Sylvain noted, surveying the mound of mashed potatoes and grilled fish on his plate, accompanied by a bowl of vegetable soup. “Oh, you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to,” he added as he picked up the utensils next to the plate, noticing Felix pulling up a chair by his bedside. “Wouldn’t you rather hit the training grounds?”

“I think I saw my old man heading over there, so I’m in no rush to go right now,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Plus, someone has to take the tray back to the kitchen.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Sylvain smirked, before shoveling a bite of food into his mouth (Goddess, he was hungrier than he realized). “Pretty sure I could handle that much myself, you know.”

“Not a chance,” Felix shot him down immediately, narrowing his eyes. “You’re spending the day resting up.”

“Oh, come _ on _\--”

“Shut up and stuff your face already,” he interrupted, sighing exasperatedly. “I’m not budging on that. You’re always running around so carelessly, _ somebody _ has to make sure you’re not off doing something stupid and getting yourself killed.” He crossed his arms, his voice taking on an even more annoyed tone. “You do realize that between me, Ingrid, and the boar, we’ve been playing babysitter for you since we were kids, right? Even though you’re the oldest of us?” Sylvain nearly choked on his food from laughter. Felix’s scowl deepened.

“Come on!” he protested, after regaining himself. “I mean, you’re not _ completely _ wrong, but gimme _ some _ credit here. When all of you got snot-nosed and misty-eyed back in the day, remind me who it was you came crying to? This guy, right here.” He stuck his thumb out toward his face, and winked. “Don’t even _ pretend _ like I’m not the best hugger out of the four of us.”

“I’m not even going to grace your idiocy with a response.”

“Suit yourself, suit yourself,” Sylvain said lightheartedly, lifting the bowl of soup to his lips for a sip and wincing a bit upon burning his tongue. “How’s Dimitri doing?” Felix raised a brow.

“He’s holed up in the cathedral, as usual,” he answered, “but at the very least he isn’t hostile to having Dedue around to keep an eye on him. What, were you expecting him to come over and visit you?”

“No, no, I was just curious,” Sylvain replied, plucking a fish bone out of his mouth. “It’s too bad he’s still cooping himself up. Who knows what a proper hot meal would do for him?” Felix cast his gaze to the floor, frowning.

“As long as he eats at _ all_, I’ll take it,” he admitted. “But like I said, he hasn’t been hostile to Dedue so far, so maybe he’ll be the one to finally drag his ass out of the cathedral.”

“Could be,” Sylvain agreed, cleaning off the last of the food on his plate before returning to the bowl of soup. “Somehow I get the feeling he’s starting to come around, so hopefully he’ll be willing to break out of his shell little by little. The more time he spends around others instead of being locked up with his own thoughts, the better, y’know?” Felix shifted in his seat, folding one leg and resting it atop the other.

“I know,” he noted softly, “but I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.”

“Fair enough,” Sylvain replied, after gulping down a mouthful of soup. “But all the same, any progress is better than none.” He lifted the bowl to his lips again, swigging down the last of its contents, then put it back down on the tray in his lap. “Goddess, that hit the spot.”

“Need anything more?” Felix asked, leaning forward and taking the tray from him.

“Nah, I’m good, but thanks.” Unexpectedly, Sylvain swung his legs over toward the edge of the bed, pulling the sheets off of himself. “You know what? I could use a bit of fresh air, so let me walk with you back to the dining hall.” Felix had half a mind to shove him back.

“Did you not hear what I said before?” he quipped. “You need to rest.”

“Relax, it’ll be ten minutes tops,” Sylvain assured him, putting on his best pout and puppy dog eyes. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting to stretch his legs a bit, right?” Felix sighed, grip around the tray tightening.

“_Fine,_” he conceded, standing up. “If you really insist.”

Sylvain grinned, getting up from his bed with a spring in his step.

\---

Upon heaving the cathedral doors open, Dedue stopped for a moment, feeling a hand upon his arm. He turned back toward the prince, who had laid his hand atop his armor, seemingly not with any particular intention, but a look of wonder, of astonishment, on his face nonetheless, as if he still couldn’t quite believe they were truly standing side by side. But then again, it _ was _ nothing short of a series of miracles. He said nothing for a moment, watching Dimitri’s eye gradually sink until he was looking at the floor, his brow furrowed-- in anger? Frustration? A cool breeze trailed in through the doorway.

“Your Highness?” Dedue asked, gently. “Would you rather stay after all?” Dimitri blinked, snapping out of his trance, and considered the question for a moment before letting out a grumble, his voice low and rough around the edges.

“No,” he replied, hesitantly. “I’ll go.”

\---

Sylvain quickly threw a light jacket on before he and Felix slipped out of his room. Walking down the length of the dormitory hallway, he smiled to himself, recalling days long in the past. Upon first arriving to the monastery all those years ago, he was devastated to learn of his room assignment, all the way at the end of the hall-- not because the distance was much of an issue, but because it meant he’d almost never be able to slip in and out without at least one of his old friends noticing (and indeed, the memory of getting yelled at by all three of them simultaneously in the dead of night, within earshot of half of the academy’s students, brought both a smile and a grimace to his face). But all of that was ages ago. Briefly, he wondered to himself if the dormitories would be completely filled again someday, if ever he’d get another scolding from the prince for skipping training, if ever he’d get to tease him for his little dagger incident again.

“You’ve got a weird look on your face,” Felix pointed out flatly, as they descended down the stairs.

“Just an old man’s nostalgia,” he explained with a wink. Felix rolled his eyes.

When they made it outside, Sylvain stretched his arms above his head, taking in a deep breath before letting his eyes trail from side to side. He stopped in his tracks, slapping a hand on Felix’s shoulder.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, pointing. “Is that…?”

Felix frowned and was about to make a snide remark, but his eyes widened upon following Sylvain’s finger.

Ingrid appeared to have just emerged from the dining hall, standing by the door and talking to Dedue, but there was no surprise there. Since his return, everyone was stopping him around the monastery, talking to him, giving him hugs; they missed him, and were overjoyed that he was alive. The real shock came from the mass of furs and the deep blue cape beside him.

Felix and Sylvain watched for a moment, as Dedue ended his little chat with Ingrid and beckoned the prince inside the dining hall. From afar, she caught notice of the two of them and waved, before pointing her thumb over her shoulder toward the door as if to ask _ “Did you see that?” _

Sylvain grinned as he and Felix began walking again, slapping a hand on his back.

“He really is coming around,” he beamed, “I’m glad.”

Felix said nothing at first, looking down at the tray in his hands. Of course, he was happy. At least, he was pretty sure he was. His father might well have fainted on the spot out of joy. But other than the initial sense of surprise, he had little of a reaction. Traces of a strange sensation lingered, a seed of worry rooted in his chest.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m glad too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oho! a double upload this time!  
i actually also finished chapter 6 before chapter 5 so once it's done, there'll be another double upload. tentatively speaking, there'll probably be 10 in total!  
as always, thank you for reading, and happy new year!


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